Twisted Fayrie Tales

by Sally Odgers

  No! He chased away the thought, and the tears, with a wave of his hand. “Simple. We'll just never wake up."

  He reached over to pluck a leaf from Julia's hair, tracing it gently down her cheek. He then echoed the path with kisses.

  "I love you, Ted.” She reached for him, and his breath was stolen from his being. Warmed by love more than by the September sunshine, they reveled in satisfied bliss. Feeling buoyant and peaceful, his eyes began to flutter closed. Time, for a merciful stretch, stopped.

  * * * *

  Coming out of his haze, Ted found himself gazing at the snowglobe, one hand on either side. The globe! Blinking, he straightened himself up and looked around him. The park was gone.

  "Julia?"

  He was back in his living room, standing right where he'd been when he'd left it. Left it? Had he, in fact, left at all? He raced over to his laptop to check the date.

  "Twenty-four December,” he murmured aloud. “Still Christmas Eve."

  He headed back to the globe. He knew he shouldn't be disappointed the dream had ended, yet his throat ached and the emptiness that had once been fitted to him like a well-worn glove held a new sharpness. He reached for the globe, to place it back in the box.

  A rattle at the front door startled him out of his depression. Someone was trying the doorknob. He approached the entryway with caution. No one came over; not anymore. Someone was breaking in.

  Then, the doorbell chimed. With the briefest pause he pulled open the door—and gasped. There, with windblown cheeks and wisps of silken caramel hair escaping a woolen cap, stood the biggest miracle of his life.

  "Forgot my key,” Julia said as she bustled past. Her arms were laden with packages, some of which she shoved at him as she went by. He stood frozen, with an openmouthed stare.

  A gentle hand stroked Ted's sleeve. The ring from the mantle sat upon it, proud and tall.

  "You okay?” She smiled up at him, eyes swimming in happiness.

  Ted choked, his voice thick with emotion. “No, I just ... is this real?"

  She directed her attention out the front door, gazing at the uncharacteristic white plush blanketing the yard. “The snow, you mean? Fantastic, isn't it? First in twenty-five years. A Christmas miracle."

  The woman spoke to the front yard.

  "Come inside now, or you'll catch cold!"

  In his disbelief Ted had failed to notice a small boy with straw-colored hair squatting on the steps, scooping snow into a pile. Somehow, he found his voice.

  "Charlie?"

  "Hey Dad, look!” The boy raced up the steps, holding up a small, misshapen snowball for scrutiny.

  "Let's make a snowman!"

  Ted's heart pounded as if it would leap from his chest.

  "You're my ... son?"

  The boy laughed. “Stop teasing! C'mon, let's throw snowballs!"

  With that he pulled Julia into his arms with such fervor that her cap slipped off her head. Holding her tight, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her clean scent.

  "It worked. You're here—both of you! You're the real Christmas miracle. My Christmas ... present."

  "Hey, I love you too!” Her voice came muffled from Ted's chest. “Is everything okay?” She pulled back, eyes searching. “Did you get your shopping done?"

  "Shopping? Yeah, I—no!” He made a beeline for the mantle. He stared for a moment, remembering the shopkeeper's words, then gingerly repacked the snowglobe.

  "I'll be back in a few. I forgot something.” He started out, Charlie was racing around the yard.

  "Dad, are you coming?"

  "In a few minutes, Char—son. There's something I need to do."

  He turned, gazing through glassy eyes at his wife and son as if he could halt this moment in time. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Mirror, Mirror

  By

  Rob Rosen

  "T hat sound” The tiny man gasped. “Surely I must be mistaken ... I am simply an old man, hearing what he wishes so dearly to hear."

  Still, he followed his ears to the sobs echoing in the distance, a sound he had not heard in many, many years. A sound that broke his heart so long ago, yet one he ached to hear again. He often heard it in his dreams, whispering to him from a time long forgotten.

  "Perhaps I am dreaming,” he mumbled, traversing the forest, running as fast as his aged, bowed legs could carry him. “Or perhaps a cruel trick of the wind as it courses through the seven hills around my home."

  But no, for he knew all the sounds of the forest like the back of his old, withered hand. Recognized every noise, both friendly and not; and this one was so very different from any of those. This was something special. Something he knew he'd never hear again. Yet here it was, very real, and growing louder and closer by the second.

  And then he was there, standing a scant few feet from the source as she cupped her face in her hands and cried miserable tears. Clearly aged, her once jet black hair hung down in gray locks around her shoulders. But there was no mistaking the woman who knelt on the forest bed,face bent so low that it nearly touched the ground she rested on.

  "Snow?” he said. “Why do you cry so?"

  Startled, she fell back onto her hands and scampered a few feet away. But then her eyes rested upon the small man grinning at her, and she, too, smiled timidly in return. Her tears dried upon seeing his wizened face.

  "My friend,” she finally managed. “I cry for I feared I would not find you. It has been so very long since I've dwelt in this forest, and I have been lost for several days now searching for you. But here you are."

  "It seems I have always been able to find you when you need me. Why have you returned after so long an absence?” His voice sounded sterner than his heart felt at that instant, but she had been away for so long and that same heart had grown quite bitter during those years.

  "Do not be mad, old friend. Had I been able to return sooner, I surely would have."

  He hoped she spoke the truth. For of all the creatures he had met in his long life, none had been more honest or sincere than she. And none he had trusted more. He softened in an instant and crouched down on the moss-covered ground beside her.

  "I am sorry, Snow. I did not mean to sound angry. It is just that I was surprised to see you again. And for that I am quite glad.” He reached out and gently held her hand. She was ice cold. It was then he realized that something about her was not as it had been. His years as a doctor had trained him well, though he had not practiced in a very long time. For as long as he'd been alone, as a matter of fact.

  "Come, my friend,” he said, helping her to her feet. “We must get you by a warm fire and feed you something nourishing. You have been out in this wilderness far too long."

  The two slowly walked back through the forest, both holding the other's hand for fear that if they let go they would be separated again forever. Neither spoke a word, though much was running through each of their minds. When they finally made it to his tiny cottage in the glade, Snow collapsed on his pint-sized straw bed, clearly exhausted and much worse the wear.

  The man wiped her perspiring, creased brow and stared down at the friend he was certain he would never see again. She was still lovely. Age had clearly not diminished her beauty. Though something was off. Something was very much different about her. He couldn't yet put his finger on it, but the Snow White that lay before him had indeed changed.

  "What does she need of me now, after all this time?” he whispered to himself as he lay on the floor and tried to sleep. “What can an old dwarf like me have that has finally brought her back here?"

  * * * *

  When he awoke, Snow was no longer on the cot. The tiny man bolted up for fear that he had been dreaming, but he smelled the food cooking on the fire outside and knew in an instant that he had not been. She had truly returned to him, and was, like the olden days, cooking him breakfast. His mind, however, turned darkly black at the thought that swirled in his head. It was th
e same thought that plagued him as he fell asleep, “Why have you returned after so long?"

  But before the thought consumed him, she had walked back in and was smiling down upon him. That was all he needed to erase his misgivings. It was all he ever needed. Even after working hour after hour in the miserable copper and gold mines that surrounded their home, when his back ached and his joints creaked, the merest hint of her glorious smile made it all right again. Made it all tolerable. So he smiled back up at her and joined her at the table for the meal she had prepared.

  "You always were an excellent cook,” he said in between bites.

  "And you always were an excellent eater,” she replied, though she herself barely touched her food.

  The dwarf laughed despite the tension that hung thick in the air; but when he had finished his meal he could no longer keep his peace.

  "Snow, it has been a very long time since last we faced each other, but not so long that I do not recognize when something is bothering you. Please, my dear, tell me what is wrong?” The smile all at once left her face and she sat rigidly in place.

  "Yes, my friend. You are right, as always. But first, pray tell, where are your brethren? When last I saw you, there were six more. Why is there now just one? Did the others move from this valley?"

  And now it was his turn to sit icily still. He had been alone for so long that the reasons nearly escaped his memory. It now came painfully flooding back to him.

  "No, Snow. They are still here. Come and I will show you."

  Tentatively he arose and she followed him outside to a clearing behind the cottage.

  "Oh no,” she cried at seeing the six tiny graves that lay spaced mere inches from each other? “How did this happen? When did this happen?"

  "Oh, a very long time ago, I'm afraid. The life of a miner is a hard one. And I suppose their little bodies simply could not take it any longer. One by one they left me, until I was as you see me now, old and alone. I tried to send word to you, but never heard back."

  "I'm afraid your messages never reached me. But that is not surprising. My husband, who when last you saw him was merely a prince, is now king of all the land as far as the eye can see from the highest peak above. And I am his queen. That is to say, was his queen. But no longer."

  "I'm sorry, Snow. Is he ... dead?"

  "No. Well, yes. But only to me.” Snow slumped in place and turned away from the graves of the once large clan. The two walked back inside and she continued with her story. “You see, all was not well with our lives."

  The dwarf frowned at hearing this. “But I had heard that you and the prince lived happily."

  "For a time, I suppose. A short time, but not ever after. That is simply what he would have everyone believe. But that is a fairy tale. It is what children are told to put them peacefully to bed. It is, sadly, not all as it appeared."

  "And that is why you have not returned for so long. You were ashamed of how your life turned out?"

  "No, that is not why.” Again Snow turned away from her one true friend, until she was, apparently, able to resume her story. “You see, when the prince rescued me from my glass coffin all those years ago, when that accursed apple was dislodged from my throat and I was once again among the living, he felt that I was his to do with at his bidding. And I, feeling that I owed him for my very life, tried my very hardest to please him. And, as I said, for a while we were happy. Until..."

  "Until?” he asked, all the while holding her hand and patting her tenderly on the back.

  "Until I bore him a daughter."

  This surprised the little man considerably. For in a kingdom as great as his, the news of a royal child surely would have reached even his remote corner, but it had not.

  "And why would this cause either of you any unhappiness, my dear?"

  "It didn't. At first. But this child was so beautiful, so pure, so perfect, that my husband sent her away.” She paused and looked down at him. “Ah, I see, my friend, that this causes you wonder. But you did not know my prince. What he was most proud of was not his wealth, nor his prestige, nor his power. No, what he coveted most in this world was the simple fact that I was the fairest in the land. That his wife, not his daughter, was the fairest of them all. That is how the story went, and that is how he believed it to be. But our daughter was even fairer. And this he could not abide by. So he sent her away. To where, I do not know. This, my friend, is why I could not return to you and the other dwarfs. And this is why I never heard word of them. You see, I have been locked in a room high above the castle. And he has maintained the legend of my beauty all the while. No one has set eyes upon me all this time to question that I was still the fairest in the land. And no one that is still alive to tell about it knows of my child. No one, that is, except for you, now."

  "And you've escaped from him?” he asked, and she nodded in the affirmative. “And now you need my help to find your daughter?” again he asked and again she nodded. “But how? I am an old dwarf with no resources and little strength left in my tired body. How can I help find somebody that is meant to never be found?"

  "But you do have it within your power to help me. Do you not remember what I left in your care after my wedding night, when my evil stepmother perished and I was, once and for all, free of her?"

  The little man's mind raced back to that long-forgotten evening. At once he knew what she was getting at and why she had returned. He had something she needed.

  "The mirror?” he finally said.

  "Yes, the mirror. It will know where my daughter is. It and only it. Please, old friend, return it to me so that I may go and seek her out."

  "Of course, Snow. It is yours to do with as you please.” And with that he arose and walked to the rear of his cottage. He then removed a piece of fabric that had been hanging low those many years, and there, as it had been all that time, hung the magical mirror.

  A chill ran up his spine at hearing his friend catch her breath from behind him.

  "Be not afraid my dear. It is just a mirror. A mirror that will help you locate your daughter."

  "Yes,” she said, with a smile that confused the dwarf. For it was not the smile of relief he thought he'd find on her face. It was something else entirely, but what he hadn't a clue. “Yes, for once and for all I will find my daughter.” And the two of them stood there facing the object on the wall. The dwarf gazed at his friend's reflection as she once again started to speak. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

  The dwarf then watched in amazement as the once inanimate mirror sprang to life. A face suddenly appeared from a swirl of color and addressed his friend. “Ah, that is a question I have not heard in quite some time. But I see that the one that once was the answer is now the questioner."

  "No riddles, mirror. Just answer the question,” Snow commanded the magic mirror.

  "Yes, mistress. But I sense you know the answer already. Still, I will appease you.” A sneering smile spread across the mirror's face. “For many years it was you that was the fairest. The fairest by far. But then another was born that even eclipsed your beauty. Your very daughter, if I am not mistaken."

  "Yes!” Snow shouted at the mirror, and the dwarf jumped in alarm. “Where is she? Tell me mirror, where is my daughter? I must find her."

  "Ah,” said the mirror. “You truly are your stepmother's daughter. Are you not?"

  And then the dwarf knew what was different about his long-lost friend. Knew in a heartbeat why she sought him out. And why she needed to find her daughter so badly.

  "Mirror, may I ask a question?” the dwarf said, and Snow stared at him in surprise.

  "You have a question for the mirror?” she said.

  "Just a small one, if you don't mind, Snow,” he replied.

  Snow paused, but relented. “Fine, but please be quick about it. For I must find my daughter and bring her home."

  "But I thought you left your home for good,” the dwarf countered. Snow did not answer. She merely stood there and scowl
ed at him. “Yes, well, in any case, here is my question,” he continued. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, does the fairest wish to be found?"

  At that, Snow White turned on the dwarf and screamed, “Of course, you little fool, she wants to be found. She is the princess and my daughter. She needs her mother."

  "I think that is not the case,” the dwarf responded. “I think that it is you who needs her, and not the other way around. That is to say, it is you who doesn't need her."

  "Little man, may I remind you that you are addressing the queen,” Snow said, haughtily.

  "That you may be, but I see you for who you really are. And I do not need a mirror to show it to me. For it was you who treasured the legend of your beauty above all else. And it was you who has kept the story alive by locking yourself high above the castle so that all would remember what you once looked like, and not what you have become. And it was you who sent your daughter away, as once your stepmother sent you away. And this is the reason you have never come back here. And this is the reason you now seek your daughter, as your stepmother sought you—to destroy her, for her beauty must surely grow as yours declines. Is that not right mirror?"

  "That it is,” the mirror replied with a laugh. “It appears that the apple did not fall too far from the tree. Or should that be poisoned apple?"

  "You both can laugh all you like, but when I find my daughter..."

  "You will never find her,” came a voice from the doorway. “For she is in a land far, far away."

  The two of them jumped at hearing the voice from behind them, and then turned to face it.

  "Your highness,” said the dwarf, and then bowed as well as his little body allowed him.

  "Husband,” hissed Snow.

  "I knew that I would find you here, wife. But though that mirror might be able to tell you where I sent your daughter for her own well being, you will not be able to reach her. And even if you could, and even if your plotting came to its foul conclusion, you still would not be fairest in the land. For as I've sadly come to find out, wife, your beauty has become only skin deep. Like that mirror on the wall, scratch the surface and that is all that you will find—surface. For you, my dear, beauty was a means to an end. And now it will be the end of you."